


S.O.S. (Smoke Over Sweden)

by ATOTENSHI



Category: Metalocalypse (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2019-10-03 01:13:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17274290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ATOTENSHI/pseuds/ATOTENSHI
Summary: There's a new rap group in town by the name of JUNSHI, and one of the artists' looks like a certain guitarist.  With all the speculation going around, Skwisgaar is bombarded with questions about his relationship to her, causing bombs to detonate on both sides of the plane.  Maybe Skwisgaar will remember what happened that fateful night and accept it; or he'll just deny it and act like nothing ever happened.





	1. Hunches

**Author's Note:**

> This entire story is based off of a dream I had one night. I remembered most of it and wrote it down, and then posted it here.

February 13th, 2011. It was the premiere of the Grammys and Dethklok was invited. But not to perform, just to merely show up. The hosts didn't want anyone to die that night, so reluctantly, the band agreed to show up. They were sort of forced to go, due to the pleas of their manager. The five men sat in the second to first row, Skwisgaar being seated right next to Rihanna. They muttered to each other everytime a new singer would perform. Either giving snarky remarks about their vocals, their attire, or praise for such things.  
“Ugh. This blows.” spoke Nathan, grumbling.  
They watched Justin Timberlake dance on stage, the music and vocals blaring and ringing throughout their ears  
“Ja. Looks at hims, ha! Bouncings arounds ons thems stage, likes a littles bunnies.” retorted Skwisgaar.  
“He's just prancin’ around like a unicorn.” added Pickles.  
Murderface only cringed as Toki seemed actually interested in the act.  
The music blared and echoed throughout the area, the gold lights lighting up everyone's features. Everyone clapping and getting into the groove, applauding when the singer or band was finished. After Justin Timberlake was finished, up came the candidate for the, “Best New Rap Group” Category..  
“Guys, stop! The next performance is gonna start!” Nathan yelled.

Toki jumped, being startled at Nathan’s sudden yell. “But Nathans,” He began “I thoughts yous didn'ts cares abouts thems..I thoughts yo---”

“I wanna make fun of them without you two fussing! Shut up.”

The next performance was a rap trio called “Junshi”, consisting of three girls. After they were announced, the stage lit up with scarlet lanterns, like those of a summer festival. When the gradient of light went from black to scarlet, it revealed a shinto shrine replica in the center of the stage, lit on the edges with gold neon lights. Multiple backup dancers clad in gold and black jumpsuits appeared-- standing at the back of the stage. As the beat rolled in, there was a girl praying on the inside of the shrine. The crowd roared and cheered as she stood up slowly, turning to face the audience. Two more girls joined the main one, from the sides of the shrine--dressed in red and black garb. The beat came full blast and she skipped towards the edge, parting the sea of backup dancers.  
“Ay! Ay Grammys 2k11!” she yelled. “Lemme hear some noi~se!”

The crowd became a sea of cheers and whoops, leaving only Dethklok confused.  
The band watched the young lady and her fellow rappers bounce around on stage, the leader's glittering, scarlet windbreaker gleaming and shimmering, her bangles clanging and jingling. She let the crowd rap along, while the dancers did their thing.

“We them ghetto Yokai , fuckin’ stupid Yokai. Sword on the floor, got blood on the door..” she rapped, the crowd singing along.

Dethklok looked on as her Obsidian hair whipped back and forth, bouncing with each verse, her plump lips releasing well-versed lyrics into the mic. She smiled noticing how riled up the crowd was, dancing on the stage--her lips parting to rap,

“I'm that Koreanese onna straight out from Osaka,  
And my homies come from Mongolia, Korea and China!  
And you mix that Nippon blood, with folklore and tales,  
I'm that shapeshifting bitch, I'll save you the details!”

Her nose was small, but prominent, eyes black and mysterious----but proclaimed no evil. She squatted on the edge of the stage, looking into the crowd, smirking as the other members rapped their verses. At this moment, Nathan got a good look at her, then at his lead guitarist. He, gave a small “huh..” and came to a interesting conclusion: this new rapper looked a lot like Skwisgaar.

When her bulky sneakers squeaked as she went back to dancing and jumping, Nathan nudged Pickles in the arm.

"Pickles, did you see that?” He questioned.

Pickles turned around. “See what?”

Nathan jabbed a fat thumb in the rapper’s direction. “The girl on stage, she...uhhhh..”

Pickled furrowed his brows, tilting his head.

“She..has..black....hair?” He inquired.

“No!” Nathan whispered loudly before leaning over to him, cupping his mouth. “She looks like Skwisgaar!”

Pickles looked at her, and sure enough, despite the eyes and the hair, Nathan was right--she looked like Skwisgaar! Her slender face, defined cheekbones, sleepy eyes, and plush lips told no lies.

“Duuuude! She's even tall like him too! Lookit her!” He added with wide eyes.

Toki looked at the lead singer, then Skwisgaar, tapping him.  
“She ams looks likes yous, Skwisgaar, exactly likes yous!” he exclaimed.

“I was just about to tell him that!” replied Nathan.

Skwisgaar only shook his head, denying it.  
Pickled scooted closer to the lead guitarist. “Dude, she looks exactly like you!” Pickles told him. “The nose, the height, the lips--just look!”

Skwisgaar huffed and whipped his head to look at Pickles, leaning over Toki a little bit. “Nos! She ams asians! I ams Swedish! We don'ts looks alikes!” he declared.

Nathan opened his mouth, wanting to continue the debate, but he noticed that Nicki Minaj, who was sitting next to him, was getting irritated of the boys’ constant yelling; Rihanna was no different. Nathan gave out a small grumble as the band calmed down a little, watching the performance, thinking that maybe Skwisgaar was either right, or blind.

Sitting for performance after performance, the host finally came to the stage with envelopes, ready to announce the winners. Everything was tense, people were silent as she came onto the platform with a sparkling silver dress. .

“Up next are the nominees for best Metal album! The nominees are: Dethalbum II by Dethklok, ONYX by Obsidian Angel, and…..”  
Dethklok drowned her voice out, knowing that they were going to win, which they did. The men stood up to walk through the aisle, camera lenses following their steps.

There was applauding and cheering, meanwhile Nathan asked the group where their speech was. All of the men shrugged or gave vague answers. Nathan sighed and thought, “Fuck it, we won’t be up here for very long.”

The hostess handed Nathan the microphone, only for Nathan to say, “Thank you..uhmm...we don't have a speech prepared, so..uh..that's really all I have to say. Thanks for the award.” said Nathan before getting off stage.  
Once they sat down, Nathan wasn't thinking about leaving, or paying attention to the feeble applause of the audience, his brain was crowded with images of a certain dark- haired, Skwisgaar look-alike.

**********************************************************************************  
After the awards ceremony, Dethklok murmured amongst themselves about the young lady who had performed earlier. They said the same things that they were talking about earlier: how they were certain that Skwisgaar had some kind of relation to her, how her face was just like his, how their lips were identical, how Skwisgaar was stupid if he didn't think that the rapper looked like him in some way. Skwisgaar brushed all of this off despite Nathan's constant comparisons.

“Fine!” Yelled the frontman. “I'll prove to you that she looks like you!”  
He reached for the laptop at the far edge of the pool, turning it on.

“What was the group's name again?” questioned Nathan as his fingers tapped at the keyboard.

“Joon..shis..” Toki replied.

“H..How the fuck do you spell that?”

Toki's tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth as he pounded at the keyboard with his two index fingers. "J-u-e-"

"I think it's J-A-U," Nathan interjected, pressing his middle finger to the screen. The screen turning gray under the pressure, a droplet of water streaming down to the keys. “There's definitely an “a” in the name, Toki.”

Toki huffed, frustrated. “Fines! Yous spells its thens!” He whined.

Nathan regained control of the laptop, furrowing his brow. “Okay...J...uhh..O..O...N..S-H-E..search.” Nathan squinted his eyes, seeing that the results came up as a juice machine instead of a rap group.

“ohhhh! It ams J-U-N-S-H-I” Toki chimed.

“How?”

Toki pressed his damp finger to the screen. “It ams what the computer says.”  
Nathan Grumbled as the others looked at the monitor, clicking on a wikipedia article about the group.

Murderface narrowed his eyes. “It schays here that they're a rap group from Oschaka, Japan..conschisting of Kam-ee--”

“I think it's pronounced Kam-eh, Murderface.” Pickles interjected.

The bassist cleared his throat. “ _Kamei_ “Kappa” Noriega, Jun Otoshi, and Miyuki-Nova Toriyama…”

Pickles grabbed a beer, “But who's who?” he questioned before taking a sip.

Toki shoved a finger to the monitor.

“Thats ones! Ins the middles!”

Nathan clicked on the image, only to point out key features.

“Pickles, Pickles!”

The computer was shoved towards his face.

“Look at her face, is that not Skwisgaar’s face?” Nathan belted.

Pickles flinched at the sudden volume and said, “I told you Naten, she looks exactly like Skwisgaar.”

Skwisgaar, obviously tired of the conversation, pointed to himself furiously. “She looks nothings likes mes!” he exclaimed.

“Yesch sche doesch!” Murderface retorted, a face full of chips.

Skwisgaar huffed. “Nos! Loo-looks ats thems sharps cheekbone, thems thick lips, stupids eyes....She ams nots likes mes!”

Nathan growled and grumbled, going back and forth with his guitarist. Pickles would chime in, and so would the others. Soon enough, the water was sloshing around and the grumbles turned into yelps of pain and garbled, gurgling noises. Skwisgaar's hand smacked against the leader's face--making Skwisgaar the victim of one of Nathan's punches. With a swift dunk, Skwisgaar found himself under the water in a matter of seconds.

“You're fucking stupid if you don't think she looks like you!” Nathan yelled, pushing the guitarist’s head further into the bubbly bath.

Pickles tried to lift Nathan's arm.“Dood sthap! You're gonna drown him!” He squealed.

Skwisgaar came back up with a loud gasp and punched Nathan in the face--which only hurt Skwisgaar's hand.

“Oww! Fucks, Nathans! What ams that's fors?” He cried.

“What?! You punched _me_ , asshole!” the frontman snarled.

“Ja! But yous trieds to drowns mes!”  
“So?”  
“Sos yous shoulds apologizes!”

There was a pause.

“...uhhh only if you say that I was right.”

Skwisgaar slapped his palms against the water, yelling, “Nos! Drops its! She doesn'ts looks likes mes!”

Nathan dragged the guitarist by his hair back into the water, keeping him there as Skwisgaar's arms thrashed and splashed about.

“Guys, knock it off, I have something important to tell you.” Said a stern voice in front of the hot tub.

“What is it Charlesch?” complained Murderface.

“Well, it's about the...ah..Grammy's,” Charles began. “ but if you don't want to hear it then I guess I'll just ...you know..leave and let you boys go back to what you were ah...doing--”

Nathan turned his gaze from Skwisgaar to the manager. “No, no! We want to hear it,” he responded.

“Well, in that case...could you ah..let Skwisgaar breathe? We can't have him drown here.”

Nathan let Skwisgaar up and the latter violently coughed once his lungs met air once more. Gasping and panting, Toki hit him on the back a couple of times.

“Good.” the manager uttered. “Now the main part that I'm going to get to is your speech.”Pickled chuckled drunkenly. “Oh, about dat...we didn't have one.”

Hearing the response, Charles crossed his arms as if he were a disappointed father. “Yes you did.” He said. “ I gave you guys a speech before we got to the stadium.”

“Well, maybe we loscht it!” Murderface screeched.

“How, Murderface?” Charles said with a sigh.

“Well...Schkwisgaar blew his nosche with it and none of usch wanted to touch it!”

Charles slowly inhaled.

“Well, whatever the case may be, you are being ridiculed in the media..because you all looked like fools on the ...ah..stage.”

“Sos whats ifs we looks stupids? What ams the bigs deals?” questioned Toki.

“Well, the big deal is that you all looked very...unprofessional.”

There was a cacophony of groans and dismissive statements from the band.

“Is that all?” Pickles asked

“Well, for the Grammy’s part, yes. But there's other business that needs to be talked about. You see--

“Wait, Charles! Sorry about interrupting you, but there's something I uhhhh want to ask you.” Nathan interjected.

Charles turned towards him. “What is it, ah.. Nathan?”

Nathan called him over, retrieving the laptop from the hot tub, opening it to show Charles the picture of a certain rapper.

Charles glared quizzically at the computer’s monitor, mouth in tight line. “Wh-What is this about Nathan?” He finally asked.

Nathan scooted over to where Skwisgaar sat, placing the image next to the blonde’s head--prompting the Swede to roll his eyes. “Does she look like Skwisgaar? Yes or no.”

Charles exchanged a few glances from the laptop to Skwisgaar.

“Yes or no?” Nathan repeated.

“Well...aahhhh….”

He took another glance.

“She does look like him, but only a little.” Charles concluded.

Nathan turned towards Skwisgaar with a smile. “See? Even Charles agrees with me!” he boasted.

“Why ams Charles takings yours sides?” Skwisgaar groaned.

“Skwisgaar, I'm not taking sides I just answered a question. Anyway--”

Toki quickly shot up out of the water and tried to speak, only stammering and stuttering.

“Wait! What ifs she ams….relateds tos hims..?” he finally asked.

There was silence surrounding the area, and a worried look on Skwisgaar face. Everyone exchanged confused looks with each other, all the glances eventually rebounding back to Charles.

“Related how, Toki?” Charles asked for clarification.

Toki thought for a second.

“Maybes it ams his daughters?” he stated.

Charles only chuckled and shook his head. “Guys, come on now…” He started “Skwisgaar can’t be the father. It’s ah….stated in the contract that every woman he takes home has to sign.”

Skwisgaar quickly dissociated from the chit chat, trying to remember something that could maybe explain why Nathan wouldn’t leave him alone about that rapper girl. Unlocking multiple chests of memories that he hadn’t opened for years, to maybe a person he had met for only three seconds. Nothing seemed to click in his brain, he kept thinking and thinking, trying to remember at least someone or something. Maybe one memory could--

“Skwisgaar!” Nathan yelled.

Skwisgaar jumped, getting whiplash from the sudden drop into reality.

“I guess, I was wrong..” Nathan said.

Skwisgaar slowly calmed down and nodded. “Y-Yeahs..you ams.”

Getting out of the tub, Skwisgaar grabbed a towel and told the band members that he was going to take a nap, and not to wake him. The other men said their variations of “okay” and “alright” and let the guitarist be. Skwisgaar headed off into the maroon corridors, growing weary and annoyed at the “plip, plap, plip” of his soggy, bare feet on the smooth wooden floor. He looked forward to wrapping himself in warm, white blankets, forgetting any of the words that the others had said earlier. Despite all of this, there was still a nagging thought in his mind: What if she was his daughter. Shrugging that thought off, he finally got to his room and wrapped his body in his shaggy quilt--drifting off to a deep slumber, hoping nobody would wake him up.


	2. A Body Without A Brain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skwisgaar wakes up from his nap due to a phone call from Nathan. He tells him that the rap group is on T.V. and to turn it on. Skwisgaar throughout the whole ordeal doesn't understand why Nathan is still talking about this, but to humor him, Skwigaar reads up on them. He looks up their origins and discography and finds out that Miyuki's mother seems familiar. He isn't sure why, and will probably never know why either, due to Nathan and Toki's constant interruptions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of the characters besides Dethklok are from my dream. If there is an idol named Junko Toriyama, then I'll be damned..same goes for the rest of the characters.

Three, four, five hours passed as Skwisgaar lay unconscious in his world of warmth.  With the macrocosm outside of his own blasting cold air, he subconsciously wrapped himself tighter in it, mumbling various scenarios and ideas.  He lay resting on weightless pillows and dreaming of lecherous entities, a distant ringing noise growing louder and louder with each second passing.  Eventually prying open his eyes to witness a glowling, electric blue light emanating from a phone screen. Skwisgaar tossed off his blankets, and grabbed the vibrating device.  He sat up, elbows propped up on his knees, free hand on his bony cheek. He sighed and answered, shivering.

 “Hellos? Skwisgaar Skwigelf speakings.”

There was silence but slight murmuring on the other end.

“Hellos?”  He asked again.

Finally, a loud voice replied to his greeting.

“Skwisgaar! Turn on your T.V.!” they replied.

 Skwisgaar extended his lanky limbs, scoffing  and mumbling.

“Whys?”

“The girl who looks like you is on T.V.!”

He got up out of the bed with a loud huff, rubbing his eyes as he dragged his soles on the cold floor.

“Nathans, why ams yous still goings ons about this?”  The guitarist whined.

“I’m not!”

“Yes yous ams!”

Skwisgaar thought for a moment.

“Where ams yous?” He questioned.

Nathan paused.  “Uhhhh… Toki and I are picking out a new T.V. at this store--Anyway, turn on your T.V.!”

Skwisgaar groaned and turned around, staring blankly around his room. He didn’t see the remote anywhere, so he began chucking pillows and tossing blankets, opening drawers and scanning the ground.   Finally finding it under the bed, he aimed it at the giant screen, watching it come to life with Swedish soap operas and commercials.

“What channels ams its ons?” he asked, flipping through the channels.

“B.E.T.”  said Nathan.

Skwisgaar flickered through the channel guide until he finally came to the channel.  It was some sort of radio interview for a hip-hop station--he wasn’t sure which one, but he didn’t particularly care either.  His eyes were glued to the screen, gradually forgetting that Nathan was still on the line. In spite of that, he was able to hear Toki in the background asking Nathan, “Dids he finds the channels?”

 “Toki wants to know if you’re on the right channel!” Yelled Nathan.

“Ja! I ams starings ats its, stops yellings ats mes!”  the tall man complained.

 Nathan cleared his throat. “Okay.” He said “You watch that, and Toki and I are going to keep looking for..uhhh.. Stuff.”

Skwisgaar promptly told the singer “Goodsbye” and hung up the phone, rapidly tapping the volume button on the remote. He caught the show right after a commercial break, making sure that he had it up loud enough to hear. His senses were locked onto the interview, his mind blocking out any other distractions.

******************************************************************************

“Ay, what’s up y’all, It’s T-Sway, Voxx, and Chillz! Welcome back to “Fresh Off The Tape” where we have the rap trio “JUNSHI” with us in the studio today!”  One of the hosts greeted.

The hosts gave a round of applause as the girls smiled and nodded.

“Now, now tell us about your latest album--Voxx told me you guys were thinking that it was going to flop.” He continued.

 

One of the girls cleared her throat and leaned towards the mic a little, her round face donning a slight smile as she ran her tiny, slender, fingers through her mint-green undercut.

 

“Hey, you know how it is, T-sway.” she began, “Sometimes you just have a few songs on an album and you think ‘ahh, it’s all shit’. But then you see the-the reviews and go ‘I guess not.’ ”

Her voice sounded high, but jumpy--like the bouncy, springy, sound effect in a cartoon.  

The other rapper smirked, flipping her dark hair. “Ahhhh...but Kamei, you always think that things will turn to shit.”

 She sounded laid back and confident, full of pride and vigor.  

The only female host, Chillz made a confused noise. “She does?” She inquired.

Both of the rappers laughed heartily at the question, one of the nodding as well .

 

The leader parted her glossy lips. “Yeah!” She exclaimed “Kappa is always the one doubting everything.” she said with a voice as clear as quartz.

T-Sway intervened. “So, who writes the raps? Do all of you contribute?”

 Kamei pointed to herself and the guitarist’s double with a wide smile. “Miyuki and I write the lyrics, Jun makes the beats.”

Jun ran her acrylic, maroon nails down her shoulder length, auburn, dyed hair.  Her black eyes looked around as she nodded her head.

 Chillz leaned over to her mic, smiling.  “But the real question is...who has the best flow?”  she asked.

 All the rappers looked at each other, about to say something when Voxx cut them off.

“I think what Chillz meant to ask was: how would you describe your flow?”

  Miyuki hummed curiously, then said, “I guess,...I would say..it’s---”

“Aggressive.”  Interrupted Jun.

 Kamei nodded her head and pointed to her friend, mouth shaped like the letter “O”.

“Jun is right! You do sound aggressive when you rap!”

 Miyuki chuckled and pushed her a little, causing the green-haired lyricist to yelp a bit, falling backwards.

 “Kamei’s flow is faster.” Began Miyuki “You can’t even understand her! It’s gibberish sometimes!”

 Jun snickered, then uttered “Tongue-twister.”

Kamei laughed at her comment, squeaking and snorting.  

“She’s right though!” uttered Miyuki.

The hosts looked on, as the artists seemed to forget that they were doing an interview in the studio.  They looked at each other with confusion scribbled on their faces, until Voxx cleared his throat and continued the questions.

“What about Jun?”  He asked, leaning forward.

Miyuki turned to Jun, the latter’s eyebrows raising and lips curling.

“Jun’s rap is kind of...slurred.” she answered.

They all laughed as the three rappers kept talking about each other, eventually leading to another commercial break.

****************************************************************************

Skwisgaar turned the television off for two reasons.  One: He got tired of the boring questions and the girls’ constant laughing. Two: He had heard Nathan’s gruff voice ring throughout the house, along with Toki’s shrill whining and obvious bratty behaviour.  He slowly stood up, his bed groaning as the weight was lifted. Opening his door, and walking into the main room--he saw everyone looking at the new T.V. that they two bought earlier. He heard soft murmuring and made out that they were thinking of where to put it.  Walking up to them, he asked where the laptop was, since Nathan usually had it.

“Uhhhh...It should be in my room..or the kitchen table.” He answered.  

Pickles sighed at Nathan’s forgetfulness and said, “It’s on the table, Skwisgaar”

Skwisgaar hastily moved to the kitchen where he found the laptop as well as Toki eating a sandwich.  

“Oh, heys Skwisgaars.” He greeted with a mouthful of bread and other ingredients.

Skwisgaar sat down and turned on the device, squinting when the bright screen displayed its wallpaper.

“Heys Tokis.” he replied, opening up safari.

Toki swallowed the last bit of sandwich that he had in his mouth and continued talking.

“What ams yous doings?” He asked.

Skwisgaar typed at the black keyboard, eyes never leaving the screen for a millisecond. “Nothings...import..ants..” He replied, not exactly paying attention to the brune’s inquiries.

Toki scooted closer to his friend, taking bites of his meal, looking at the screen in front of both of them.  Skwisgaar, ignoring the rhythm guitarist’s compact proximity to him, typed away until he reached the same wikipedia page that the band had come across earlier. He looked through all the sections, reading up on the trio for himself--it was much better than listening to a sorry excuse of an interview--at least to Skwisgaar.

“Heeeeeyyyys, it ams thats girls froms the Grammys!” Exclaimed an excited Toki.

Skwisgaar shushed him for yelling in his ear and went back to reading the articles.  He furrowed his blonde, brow trying to remember the girl’s name. He scrolled to find some kind of link to them individually.

“ **JUNSHI** dates back to 2004, when eighth-graders Miyuki-Nova Toriyama and  Jun Otoshi, (aka Ju.npo.w) met and began rapping and performing together  around Daitō Osaka..." The article read

Skwisgaar clicked on the blue letters reading Miyuki’s name and read up about her, since Nathan and the others wouldn’t leave him alone about it.

“Born to idol-turned pop singer, Junko Toriyama and an unknown father, the Osaka native made her musical debut in 2009 with the album, _Sukeban_ along with her group, JUNSHI…”  He read quietly.

 The name of the mother struck some sort of memory in his head--yet he wasn’t sure why. Staring through the white monitor, Skwisgaar tried to remember more, or at least figure out why the name clicked.  He wasn’t sure how he knew the name, perhaps he had heard it on the T.V., perhaps the radio? He hummed in confusion and propped his heavy head on his hands.

“What ams wrongs, Skwisgaars?”  Inquired Toki, noticing Skwisgaar’s unhappy state.  

Skwisgaar groaned. “Nothings, Toki…” he said, clicking on a picture of the rapper’s mother.

Toki got up out of his chair and stood behind the skinny Swede, and looked at the monitor with him, asking who the lady was on the screen.

“I don’ts knows who she ams!...” he yelled out of frustration. “...At leasts..I don’ts thinks thats I know hers..”

“Why are you yelling?” Asked Nathan from the entryway.

The two guitarists whipped their heads around to see the large man standing by the doorframe.

“Skwisgaars ams mads because he doesn’ts knows the ladys ons the computers!” Explained Toki, gesturing to the electronic device with his hands.  Nathan furrowed a dark brow and sauntered over to where the two men were, and looked at the screen with them.

“Who’s that?” He asked

Skwisgaar huffed in annoyance, putting the heel of his palm to his forehead, fingers intertwined in the roots of his blond hair.

“I don’ts knows who she _ams,_ Nathan! I just yelleds thats outs earliers!”

Nathan went closer to the monitor to get a better look at her, humming.

“I’ve never seen her.” He commented.  Still close to it, he asked, “Is she...uhhh..your...celebrity-crush or something?”

Skwisgaar pulled the laptop closer to him and turned his head upwards to look at the frontman. “Nos!” he said. “She ams thats rappers mothers!”

Toki nodded in what seemed like understanding and tilted his head a tad to the side.

“Sos,...yous..wanteds tos sees whats..she looks likes?” Toki questioned.

Skwisgaar rolled his eyes and groaned at their countless questions, but in reality, Skwisgaar couldn’t remember why he pulled up a picture of the woman.

He shook his head, closing the laptop and slouching in his chair.  He exhaled, ignoring the others’ presence.

“Heys, Nathans…” Skwisgaar began. “I ams hungries.”

Nathan looked at him for a second, confused.

“So?”

“Sos we shoulds goes somewheres to eats.”

Nathan smiled and chuckled a little.  “Yeah.” he grunted “I am pretty hungry.”

Toki grew excited, “Ohs! Let’s goes tos a burgers joints!”

 

The boys all agreed to this and headed to their vehicle, chatting about various things on the way, passing by klokateers--dead and alive.  Despite the chatter and jive, Skwisgaar stayed occupied with the name in the back of his mind.  

"Shoulds wes invites the others?" Questioned Toki as he buckled up.

"We'll bring them something back." Nathan responded.

 

 

 


	3. Chilaquiles and Confusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the way to a restaurant to eat at his request, Skwisgaar tries to remember the woman he saw on the computer to no avail. The rumor then makes its way onto the Dethklok Min. and Skwisgaar's emotions only get more convoluted as the world starts to speculate if the rapper is indeed his daughter.

   Stockholm, Sweden: September 4th,1990. It was a calm, autumn night, and a young Skwisgaar was playing on stage at a festival. People were cheering and hooting as he played a guitar solo, the blue fire at the corners of the stage heating up the coldest of people.  The sixteen year old boy smiled and licked his heart out as people threw themselves onto the stage. It was one of many gigs that he was doing, not for a very high price, but a price nonetheless. In the crowd, he spotted a young Japanese girl, about the same age as him, in a mosh pit, throwing herself about, punching, elbowing, and grinning--blood running down her forehead from what Skwisgaar assumed to be a cut. From what Skwisgaar could see, she was a small little thing, bundled up in  a black turtleneck and donning black ripped jeans, despite how cold it was. Her hair was in a high ponytail, her bangs fluttering in the cold, winter air. The lights on the stage lit up the ground below, and the pit dissolved--the girl coming near the front to jump and scream out the lyrics to the song. Skwisgaar noticed her and sat on his knees, improvising another solo, just to impress her--which it did in fact do. She squealed and clutched her chest in adoration, slowly reaching out for the blonde boy, he held her hand and winked at her standing back up a few seconds later, stepping back into his original position on stage.

  After the show and the festival, the band packed up their instruments and loaded them into their car. Skwisgaar at on the edge of the trunk, putting his guitar back into its case.  He was in the process of zipping it up when he heard footsteps approaching him quickly.

“Excuse me!” said a squeaky feminine voice in front of him.

The young man looked up and smiled at the person in front of him, soon realizing that it was the same girl that he saw in the mosh pit.

“I-I really liked your performance tonight! You’re really good at playing  guitar!” the girl complemented.

Skwisgaar chuckled. “Thank you!” he responded, getting up from his sitting position on the trunk of the car.  Standing up, he noticed up close and personal that the girl was indeed rather short, about five foot three, with dark eyes.  She seemed really nice, and her oval face made her quite pretty. Her Swedish had a bit of an accent to it, but she spoke it really well--perhaps she was a native.

“Me and the band are going to some kind of party right now, want to come along? The others don’t mind.”  Skwisgaar asked, gesturing to the car behind him.

The girl looked surprised. “Sure!” she exclaimed, jumping onto the trunk and sitting there with a smile.  Skwisgaar led her to the backseat and got into the car with her, and they drove off into the chilly night.

****************************************************************

 

 

Skwisgaar stared out of the window, looking at the buildings pass by, feeling confused and mildly frustrated.  He sighed and turned to Toki who was writing something down in a journal he found in the backseat pouch.

“Heys, Toki..” he began. “Do yous evers gets dems ‘dee-ja woos’ feelings?”

Toki looked at him. “Yous means the feelings yous gets whens you’ves beens somewheres befores?” he asked.

    Skwisgaar nodded, “Yeahs...thats.” he said solemnly.

  Toki put down his writing utensils and leaned back in the car seat.

“What ams the probsklems?” He questioned with concern.

Skwisgaar shrugged and leaned forward, the seatbelt tugging against him. “That ladys...I feels likes I knows hers froms some place….” He confessed

“In your dreams?” Nathan interjected from the front.

Skwisgaar stared into the rear view mirror, his eyes catching the frontman’s. “Nos, nots mys dreams...mys memories.” he replied.

Toki raised a curious brow.  “Sos, you does reckscongnize her?” he asked.

Skwisgaar squinted and leaned back in his seat.  “I thinks…” He said slowly, retreating into his mind.

Nathan sighed behind the wheel.  Reaching a traffic light, he felt a little bad for Skwisgaar, mainly because he felt like it was his fault for bringing the conspiracy up.  When the light turned green, Nathan continued on the road driving past neon gas stations, empty streets and lonely metropolitan buildings. He thought to himself, staying quiet for a while as the two nordic men chatted it up in the back. He listened to Skwisgaar’s melancholy prose, filled with confusion, frustration, and possible guilt--Toki’s words only forming questions that were simple to answer, but only for a person with a clear mind.  In the backseat, Skwisgaar lamented and moaned. “Whys can’ts I remembers anythings?” he groaned. “What ifs she ams my daughters?” he moaned. “I’ve seens her befores, I’s swears! I don’ts knows wheres..” he cried.

“Maybes yous didn’ts eats enough, thats ams whys yous can’ts remembers anythings!” Toki squeaked. “What if she aments?” Toki questioned. “Wells, maybes yousseens hers ats a malls or the tee-vees!” Toki consoled.

Nathan listened on as the radio softly played some band that they didn’t care about.  At the next light, Nathan turned around to the two guitarists.

“Hey, Skwisgaar..” Nathan began.

The lanky man turned away from his friend and looked at Nathan.

Nathan looked down at the car’s burgundy floor, mouth pursed in a straight line. He looked back up at him. “Is there anywhere you wanted to like..go?” he asked.

Skwisgaar thought for a few seconds. “Ams theres a diners arounds?” he responded.

Toki huffed. “Whys does yous wants to gos to a diners?”

“It ams the onlys things thats I cans thinks ofs that ams opens at ones AM.”

“Ohs, rights.”

Nathan turned back around to face the road. “There’s a diner ahead.” he told them.  He saw Skwisgaar nod in the rear view mirror.

The large man grumbled and added, “Hey, don’t think  about that rapper too much..It’s not good for you.”

Skwisgaar only raised a near invisible eyebrow.

Toki nodded in agreeance. “Yeah Skwisgaars! It ams nots goods for yous guitars playings, ifs yous has a cloudys minds!”

Skwisgaar smirked--the only emotion other than confusion that he had shown the entire car ride.  

The car was filled with silence as Nathan turned into the diner’s parking lot, its pink, neon lights illuminating the lot as well as the car’s hood, changing the color of it from onyx to a glowing pink.   The three men exited the car at their own pace and walked around to the front, Skwisgaar shivering and walking at a faster pace than the others. Toki caught up with him, leaving Nathan in the dust.

“This place ams ans..aess-thek-its, don’ts yous thinks, Skwisgaar?”

Skwisgaar’s teeth chattered as he said, “What ams thats, Toki?”

Toki hummed. “Somethings yous thinks ams reallys prettys.”

The other man opened the clear glass door that led to the turquoise and rose colored restaurant. He stopped shivering immediately, letting out a sigh of relief, his body warming up again.

“Tos answers yours questions, Toki, no. It ams nots prettys.”

The trio sat down in a rose colored, cushioned booth. The stuffing creeped out of the corners of some of the cushions, giving the torn pleather seats a deteriorating appearance.  The lights inside were a fluorescent blue, flickering in some places, the low _“bzzzzzt..buzzz”_ sound emanating from above.  Toki placed his hands on the abnormally cold metal table, fidgeting with the salt and pepper shakers.  Skwisgaar began to turn the rotating dessert menu, “Corazón De Poeta” playing softly on the restaurant's speakers.  Nathan looked around, noticing that they were three of five people at the small eatery. Skwisgaar looked at his faint reflection in the mirror, turning back around when the waiter came to serve them.

“Welcome to Abuela’s! I’m Shawn,  and I’ll be your server this...morning.” the young man said to the men.  “Can I get you started with anything to drink?” he asked as he passed out menus. “Water? Soft drinks? Horchata? Hibiscus tea?” He continued.

“I’ll take a sprite.” Nathan said.

Skwisgaar raised his hand with his elbow still on the table.  “Roots Beers..” he said.

Toki thought for a moment before saying. “I’ll takes the Hibiscus teas!”

Shawn jotted down the drinks and headed off into the kitchen, leaving the three musicians to talk amongst themselves.

They stayed silent for the most part, the only real noise being the low chatter of the other customers and the music.  They picked up the menus to see what was cheap and easy to eat. Toki glanced at it, and squinted. “What language ams this?” he questioned.

“Whats does yous means?” The blonde asked, still looking over the menu.

Toki stammered over the food names, trying his hardest, with Skwisgaar attempting to correct him to no avail.  

“Toki, Toki...the English translation is below it.” Nathan said putting his menu down and pointing a thick digit to the small print below the Spanish words.   

“Oh.” Toki said before returning to the menu.

After about ten minutes, Shawn came back over.

“Are you fellas ready to order?” He questioned.

Nathan nodded. “Yeah.” He replied.

The young waiter pulled out a notepad and started to scribble down their orders.

As they ordered, Skwisgaar’s thoughts came back--much to his dismay.

When Shawn walked away with their ticket, Skwisgaar put his head on the table, levered by his arms. Nathan looked him over and  Toki leaned forward to see how he was doing.

Nathan’s guilt returned as well, though he didn’t want to admit it.  He tried to lighten up the mood with some jokes and jive, doing his best to cheer his friend up--without being obvious of course.

“Guys, listen to the song...what kind of music even is this?”

The other two men lifted their heads. Skwisgaar’s eyes poking through his arm wall.  They tilted their heads in the speaker’s direction, listening quietly.

“I know the song.” Nathan muttered.

“Hows does yous knows the songs?”Toki asked in a whisper.

Nathan hummed and said, “I lived near a hispanic neighborhood, you hear a lot of music like this.”

Skwisgaar sighed and put his face back into his arms, trying to remember something, anything--almost on the brink of tears from trying to remember.  What was so important to remember? He probably never saw that woman before, it was just Nathan trying to make him paranoid, or something. His sadness turned into anger without haste and he cooly lifted his head from his limbs, sitting up straight; his hands clasped on the table, his icy eyes looking down at his reflection in the table.  His stomach growled and his hands started shaking. He looked away from the table with a fake neutral expression to see Shawn walking to their table with a platter full of food. He saw the way Toki’s face lit up when he saw the waiter walking towards them, the way Nathan removed his hands from the table top and onto his lap when he discovered that the food was theirs, the way Shawn looked somewhat tired on his shift, carrying food.

He began handing them their plates, saying the names of the meals before handing them to their respective customer.  

“Abuela’s Chilaquiles?” He asked.

Nathan put his hands up without a word and was handed his food.

“Tamal de chipilín?”

“Overs heres.” Skwisgaar said before his plate was passed to him along with a red sauce.

“Mixiotes de conejo?”

Toki smiled and raised his hand. “That ams me!”

Shawn smiled at his enthusiasm and handed him his dish.  He gave them their drinks as well, apologizing for not serving them when he got the ticket. The band members assured him that it was all okay, and Shawn was on his way back to the kitchen.  They dug in almost immediately, happy with their choices. Skwisgaar smiled as Nathan told a story about a groupie that he found...interesting to say the least. Toki would interject and add jokes to it, which would make Nathan chortle--his thick belly jiggling like custard pudding.  Skwisgaar laughed along to their tales, forgetting why he was frustrated and angry. He took a sip of his root beer with a grin, sighing in relief when he went back to his food, all negative thoughts gone...well, they were only gone for a few seconds.

The Swede’s wandering eyes caught sight of a television hanging in  a corner behind nathan’s head; on its monitor was The Dethklok Minute--a picture of Skwisgaar next to a picture of a smiling Miyuki-Nova displayed with the caption “Daughter or Coincidence?”.  He stared at it, his staring prompting the other members to turn their attention to the bright monitor above their heads.

A waitress noticed their interest and turned the television up loud enough so they could hear it.  

“In other news, the popular Osaka-born rapper, Miyuki-Nova Toriyama, has been accused of being Skwisgaar Skwigelf’s  long-lost daughter.” The host announced.

Skwisgaar’s emotions swerved into an accident at the sound of that statement.  He whipped his head to Toki, only for Toki to stare at him and shrug. Skwisgaar turned back to the monitor to hear the rest.

“It all started after Junshi’s Grammy win that the now controversial Twitter post surfaced from a viewer who tuned in to the event earlier last night.  The post states, “Watching the Grammys tonight, and my b*tch Myuki lookin’ a lot like that dude Skwisgaar from Deathklok...（￢з￢）.” He continued.

“Oh shit..so I’m not the only one who thinks they look alike either.” Nathan muttered under his breath.

Skwisgaar sent him a piercing glare and turned back to the T.V.

“...this has started the ‘daddyskwigelf’ tag on the social media site.  So far, the rapper hasn’t said anything on the topic, hopefully this all clears up--for Skwisgaar’s sake.” He finished.

Skwisgaar looked back at his food, well he looked through it. He wore blank expression on his face--devoid of any comprehensible emotion.  How did this escalate so fast? It had only been five hours since the event. Nathan saw Shawn and asked for the check, three boxes and three separate orders of tacos--al pastor, Chicken, and Chorizo.  Shawn nodded and went into the kitchen to retrieve the boxes, coming back with the styrofoam boxes, telling Nathan that the tacos should take around ten minutes.

“That’s fine, we’ll wait.” he told him, putting his card under the clip for the check, so Shawn could take it.  Shawn thanked him and ran back to the kitchen with the check.

“How...hows dids this gets arounds sos quicklys?” asked the guitarist as he put his food in the box.

“It ams thes internets, things goes arounds quicklys.” replied Toki, closing the tabs to his box.

The tacos came sooner than they expected, and Shawn even took the liberty to box them up.  He handed them to the band with a smile, wishing them a good-morning,...or night. He stumbled over the two terms.  The boys got up and headed back into their car, shivering as they started running to get away from the cold. They snapped their seat belts, and Nathan took off back to Mordhaus, going as fast as he could--still abiding by the rules of the road.  Skwisgaar sat in the backseat, frowning and going off to whoever was in earshot, his accent harder to understand.

“Hows ams this possibles! It has beens onlys fives hours! Iwasn’ts evens ups theres with hers for a goods comparisons!” He ranted.

“I don’ts knows hows its happens so fasts, Skwisgaars!” Squealed Toki.  “Maybe it ams a coincidence!”

“It ams disrespectfuls!”

Nathan listened on, staying out of the argument and staying focused on getting home. Despite this, their voices only escalated in volume, Nathan kept losing focus, furrowing his brow trying to concentrate.  “Shut up, you two! I can’t focus!” he yelled.

The two guitarists sat in silence, stunned.

“Listen, I know you’re mad, Skwisgaar.” said Nathan, looking into the rear view mirror. “But it is what it is.  It’s just a coincidence, nothing more...Okay?”

Skwisgaar muttered, “Rights…” before whispering to Toki about how disrespectful it was.

“Hey!” the frontman barked. “I said, drop it!”

“Sorrys.” the two guitarists said in unison.

Once he reached the house, the crew hopped out and walked to the main room, where Pickles and Murderface were sitting at the large wooden table, Charles at the head.

“Oh, there you guys are.” chimed the manager.

“We got you guys tacos!” Nathan said, passing the three boxes to the middle.

Pickles and Murderface got the meat they wanted, Charles only watched the three men standing up with a quizzical glare.

“Where..where did you get tacos from at 2am?” Charles asked.

“Abuela’s.  We got you tacos.” Nathan responded, pushing the last box closer to the businessman.  

Charles looked at the box, then at Nathan.

Nathan pushed it closer.

“Come onnn Charles…” he said softly as he pushed it against the man’s chest.

Charles just looked at him with a squint.

Nathan grumbled. “Fine!” he said. “I guess you don’t want the tacos!”

Charles’ arms immediately stretched out and grabbed the box. “No, I..ah...want the tacos.”

“Then take them and stop looking at me like I’m stupid.”

Charles hummed and took the beef tacos out of the box, taking a bite.

“Where did you guys go?” Pickles asked, mouthful of Al pastor.

Nathan sat down, opening his food box. “Abuela’s.” he said.

“Oh! That reschtraunt down the schtreet?” Murderface inquired loudly.

Nathan nodded and ate his food as Skwisgaar and Toki sat down  and did the same.

They crunched and munched, talking over one another, but one question was announced louder than anything that the band was talking about.

“Ey! Did you guys watch the Minute? They were talking about you, Skwisgaar!” Pickles said, swallowing his bite.

Skwisgaar groaned. “Yes. I don’ts wants tos thinks abouts it.”

“I’m schurprisched that schomeone actually thought the schame thing we did!” Murderface told Pickles.

Pickles nodded and took another bite of his taco, “Yeah! But I doubt Skwisgaar is the dad, though.” he said, turning an emerald eye to Skwisgaar across the table.

Skwisgaar frowned and pushed his food away from his body, crossing his arms on his chest. “I ams nots hungrys anymores.” He announced, reaching for his guitar under he table.

Charles noticed his shift in emotion and closed his taco box, finishing up the one he was eating.

“Now fellas,” He began. “Skwisgaar is obviously upset about the topic, I think we should..ah.. switch it.”

Natha grew tired of the situation bringing Skwisgaar down, and he still didn’t want to admit how guilty he felt for bringing that damned rapper up. He closed his empty box and pushed it away, looking at Charles with a scowl.

“No! Maybe Skwisgaar should take a DNA test!” Nathan said loudly. He then cleared his throat and added, “Uh..that way...we could..stop bringing it up..forever.”

The crowd stayed silent until Charles spoke up.

“That won’t be necessary, Nathan.” he said. “It contradicts his paternal duties contract...if it ah..turns out that she is in fact his daughter--not that she is.”

Nathan rolled his eyes and sighed. “But look at how old the girl is! She’s like in her twenties!”

 Charles nodded. “Your point?”

“My point is, all those kids..uh..in the lawsuits...they aren’t that old.”

Pickles pointed to Nathan, “Yeah, I think the oldest one is eleven.” he added.

Nathan’s eyes widened as he turned to point to Pickles. “See?! Pickles gets me!” he yelled

Pickles chuckled and nodded.

“Let him take the test!” Nathan demanded.

“No.”replied Charles dryly.

“Let him do it!” Nathan repeated.

Charles pursed his lips and shook his head, opening up his taco box once again.

“Let him! Let him! Let him!” They all chanted, banging on the tables with their fists.

“Ja! Lets mes, Charles!” Skwisgaar stated.

Eventually, despite Charles trying to eat in peace and ignore their pleas, the cacophony of loud voices and wooden banging, he groaned, defeated by the men.

“Fine!” he yelled, staring at his styrofoam box, eyes wide, face growing a little red from anger.  “He can take the test later on today. I’ll set. Something. Up.. _later. in. the. day.”_

“Thank you Charles!”Nathan sung as the manager shook his head and resumed eating his third taco.

“Whatever, just..after you guys are done eating….just get to bed.”

And with that, Charles promptly finished his taco and headed to his room to sleep, setting a reminder for the test that Skwisgaar wanted to take.


	4. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Charles agrees that Skwisgaar should take a DNA test, Skwisgaar goes with the manager to the clinic to get tested, finally meeting the rapper face to face--even learning a little more about her life as well.

 

    Snow blanketed streets and frosty traffic lights passed by as the swedish men drove around the city, watching people in their heavy jackets and boots cross various streets, entering various shops and restaurants.  Skwisgaar and his newfound fan sat in the back, asking the basic, polite questions. “Where are you from?” he asked. 

    The young girl smiled and ran her fingers through her dark hair, responding, “I’m from Daito, Osaka, Japan!” 

   Skwisgaar’s eyes widened as she smiled slightly. “Oh! Japan? Well, what brings you here?”

        “My group and I are touring here. It’s a European tour.”

        Skwisgaar hummed. “Tour?” he inquired.

       “Uh-huh. I’m part of a pop group called,  Yoake no on'nanoko. ” she answered, putting her hands on her seatbelt.

  Skwisgaar feigned astonishment, since he didn’t want to be rude and tell the pretty pop star that he had never heard of them before.

   “What does the name mean?” questioned, looking out the window, trying to see if they were close to their destination.

   “Uhm..it translates..to Girls of the Dawn.” she said softly as Skwisgaar turned back towards her.

   He nodded. “My band is called   Eldele'el-Alele..” he said with a smirk.

      The girl looked at the man in the front passenger seat, the band’s logo on the sleeve of his jacket, as well as the back of the car seat that he was sitting in.

    “I..can see that..” she said slowly, nodding her head.  Skwisgaar chuckled as she giggled.

    There was a moment of silence before the young man said, “Oh! I forgot to ask your name..” 

   The girl opened a piece of candy that she had in her pocket earlier and said, “I’m Junko Toriyama.” before popping it into her mouth, bowing her head quickly in respect. 

   “I’m Skwisgaar Skwigelf, nice to meet you.” he responded.

 

**********************************************************************

     5:45 PM;  Skwisgaar was riding with his manager to the DNA test clinic, feeling anxious, yet hopeful at the same time.  Charles sat next to the blond man, filling out paperwork in silence--something that he had been doing since they got in the car.  Tired of the irritating aura of anxiety, Skwisgaar spoke up. 

     “Does yous thinks I ams hers fathers, Charle?” He questioned, looking down--his hands clasped together.

    Charles furrowed his brow, still looking at his papers. “Ah...well.. _ I  _ don’t think so.” he responded.

  Skwisgaar hummed. 

   "...Unless, there’s something that you ah...want to tell me, Skwisgaar.” he continued.

    Skwisgaar shook his head. “Nothings, I ams nots hers fathers.” he responded, opening a water bottle that was sitting in the cup holder in the back.

    Charles sighed through his nostrils and put the paperwork down.  He noticed how worried Skwisgaar was, despite how cool he was pretending to be.  The business man shook his head, taking off his glasses and putting a pale hand on the guitarist’s bony shoulder. 

     “Skwisgaar, listen to me...” He began. “This is how it’s going to work: Miyuki is going to be at the clinic,  _ alone,  _ without her group. So--”

    “How does yous knows she ams goings tos be theres?” the Swede interrupted.

   Charles cleared his throat and looked out the window, just to make sure that the driver knew where they were going.

    “Well, I spoke to JUNSHI’s manager the other night, asking if she could come down to the clinic today.  They had...agreed and well, it’s all downhill from there.”

    Skwisgaar nodded in understanding, drinking from the bottle.

    “The point is,” Charles continued, “it’s going to be one on one at the clinic--save for her manager being there..”. 

 

    Without warning, the steady-rolling vehicle came to a jerking halt, flinging the two men forward, their seatbelts saving them from hitting the ground with a tight tug on their torsos.  The water from Skwisgaar’s bottle splashed against his face, making him gasp for air, followed by a coughing fit--some of his hair stained golden from the liquid. Charles’ paperwork slid off of  his lap and onto the car floor, his glasses followed suit. He sputtered and tilted his body to look at the driver with an irritated glare.

  "What was thats abouts?!¨ Skwisgaar sputtered, wiping the spilled liquid off his face.

   Charles adjusted his glasses, trying to calm himself down as he gave Skwisgaar a handkerchief to wipe his face with.

   “I’m sorry sir, but there's a crowd in the road..in front of us” He  told them.

   Charles collected himself and asked firmly where they were.

    “In front of the clinic, Mr. Offdensen.” The driver called.

   Skwisgaar whipped his head around to his window to see that the clinic was surrounded by screaming fans holding up signs and chanting something--he couldn't hear it  through the windows.

   The duo hastily got out of the car, staring at the familiar sight in front of them. However, once Skwisgaar came back into reality, escaping his thoughts, he noticed something: the crowd of obsessive fanatics weren't cheering for him.

    “Miyuki!” They yelled. “My Queen!” They shouted. “I love you!” They squealed. 

    Skwisgaar moved through the crowd of jumping citizens and witnessed a gold convertible car parked up ahead. Its top was rolled down, with a stone-faced driver in the front seat. Turning his head back to the commotion he saw her. 

    Miyuki was smiling as she took pictures with fans, signing CD cases and shirts. She seemed to glitter in the sun, what with her gold earrings and necklaces, along with multiple bangles. It wasn't an unfamiliar sight to the blonde man, for he was usually signing and waving to his loyal fans.

   He then noticed another woman next to the rapper, clad in a coat and pencil skirt. She was frail with jet black hair, her eyes were covered by sunglasses and her eyebrows were only streaks of black on her porcelain flesh. She ushered the rapper through the crowd of people, eventually getting the young Japanese girl into the clinic's door. 

   Skwisgaar watched the crowd scream some more until a policeman arrived on the scene, ushering them back--forcing them to disperse. 

     “Charle! You didn'ts says that's theres was goings to bes a crowd of people!” Skwisgaar shouted as he walked ahead of him, opening the translucent door.

   “They didn't say there was going to be one…but it was bound to happen.” Charles responded, searching for a seat.

    At that moment, the skinny woman walked up to Charles, holding her hand out.

    “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Offdensen.” She said, taking her sunglasses off.

   “I'm Jacqueline McAndrews, JUNSHI's manager.” 

  Charles took her hand and shook it, nodding his head.

  “Nice to meet you as well, Ms. McAndrews.” He said before letting go.

  Miyuki walked up to them, looking at Charles and Skwisgaar with a judgemental glare. She looked them up and down, her dark eyes scanning their clothing. She gave a sneer when she saw Skwisgaar’s face, her smooth, jasmine skin wrinkling at the edges of her nose and eyebrows. Skwisgaar noticed the sneer and sneered back--the two almost looked exactly alike. 

    The group sat down, their shoes squeaking and clacking on the floor as they walked.  The freezing, basically empty clinic made the Swede’s arms break out in goosebumps. He sat on the long, onyx-tinted couch, shivering slightly next to the rapper--glancing at her from time to time as he sat silently. He looked at her outfit again--red, cropped windbreaker with a long black sweatshirt with japanese characters on the front of it, and crimson ripped jeans with gold sneakers. She was skinny, about five-foot-ten when she stood up and she had a holier-than-thou air about her--though the guitarist could’ve been wrong.  He picked up a magazine with his face on it, reading up on the gossip, until Miyuki broke the silence. 

   “Why are we here again? I forgot.” she said in a whisper, turned to her manager.

  “This man wants a DNA test.” she responded, her eyes lifting from the young lady to  Skwisgaar.

   Miyuki squinted at Skwisgaar and asked, “Who are you?” her Japanese accent obvious but not too strong.

   “Mmm?” he hummed with raised eyebrows, putting the magazine down.  He was surprised--no--appalled that the girl didn’t know who he was.  Dethklok practically ruled the world, everyone had heard of them, or so he thought. He turned to her calmly, suppressing any rude or smart-ass comments that had come up in his head.

  “I ams Skwisgaar Skwigelf..ands the world ams thinks I ams yours fathers.” he said, lacking any obvious emotion.

  “Pfft.” Miyuki interjected. “I don’t even know you, let alone heard of you.” 

  Skwisgaar put his hands on his lap, drumming his fingers on his thigh since he had left his guitar back at Mordhaus.

  “Wells..I knows yours mothers..” he continued on.

  Miyuki furrowed her brow. “You what?”

  “I knows yours mothers.”

  Miyuki shook her head slightly. “I..don’t understand..what…are you?”

  Skwisgaar suppressed a look of annoyance, instead looking into her black eyes with a neutral expression.

  “I. Know. Your. Mothers.” he said slowly, trying not to roll his eyes.

  Miyuki widened her eyes. “Oh! You know my mom.” she paused for a moment. “She’s famous, who doesn’t?” she continued with a stupid chuckle.

  Charles looked towards Skwisgaar with a raised brow after coming back from the appointment counter.

  “Skwisgaar, you told me you didn’t know her mother.” Charles replied--confusion riding on his tone and face. 

  Skwisgaar turned away from the young Japanese woman, looking at his manager..

  “Charle...I haves beens rememskerings things...ands I ams knows thats I haves seens hers mothers..somewheres.”

   “Well then, what was the point of coming here?” the manager whispered sternly.

  Skwisgaar shielded his mouth with his hand, leaning into the man’s ear.

   “I onlys saids that I ams knows hers mothers, it ament’s means thats I ams hers dads!”

   Charles nodded, looking around to see one of the clinic workers exit a door that lead to the testing room.

   “Skwisgaar Skwigelf, Miyuki-Nova Toriyama?” she called out.

   The two people stood up when they hard their names, each taking one last look at their managers before heading into the corridor--looking as if they were searching for some sort of security on their faces or in their body language, like two scared children looking at their guardian for safety as the nurse plunged a needle into their skin.  The managers only looked back, Charles without any fear or satisfaction on his visage. He was stone-faced, a robot. Miyuki’s manager only gave a thumbs up and a nod of her head--smiling a little bit. Miyuki smiled back as the lady employee closed the metal door behind her.

  The duo walked down the long, winding, hallway--well perhaps it just seemed that way.  Anxiety overcame the swede as he tired to strike up conversation with the lyricist. He looked at her, not moving his head in her direction, blue eyes glaring into her black hair.

  “Sos..” he began “yous don’ts haves a fathers?” 

  Miyuki shook her head before looking up at him. “No. Never knew him, never saw him.”

  Skwisgaar exhaled slowly as he responded, “Neithers do’s I.”

   Miyuki hummed quizzically before adding, “Well, my mom would always tell me about him..” she said, looking around the clinic’s burgundy walls and yellow fluorescent lights as they flickered slightly.

   Skwisgaar raised his eyebrows as they walked. “Hmm? What dids she says abouts hims?” 

   At one point during this inquiry, he wondered if she had any reason to suspect that  the guitarist was her father. It wasn’t a thought that the lingered on for long, however.  Did Junko ever tell her daughter what her absent father looked like? Did she ever explain how Miyuki was conceived. Hell, Skwisgaar could barely remember anything from that night, let alone remember if it even happened.  

  He looked at the rapper, to notice that Miyuki’s once neutral expression had quickly contorted into a bitter one. 

  “He almost ruined her career.” she said with a sprinkle of irritation. “He got her pregnant at sixteen and just left. He never spoke to her again,..” 

  Skwisgaar listened on, despite his obvious nervous behavior.  That story sounded familiar, Skwisgaar had heard it many times before. He was usually the one who ruined lives, the one who would transfer life to another--with no remorse or worries about his partner’s  financial or emotional situation. Despite this well-known fact, he didn’t see anything remotely wrong with what Miyuki’s father did. 

  “That is a stain on her career forever, despite her popularity...I am a stain on her career, despite her popularity.” Miyuki finished, the bitter look turning into one of   frustration and sadness--matching her voice.

 Skwisgaar’s face remained still like a stone as he nodded and cleared his throat.

  “Dids shes evers tells yous whats he ams looks likes?”

  Miyuki looked at him with squinted eyes. “What?” She questioned.

  Skwisgaar looked at her, confused and irritated that she couldn’t understand him.  He rearranged his words carefully and spoke slowly.       “Dids...yours...mothers...evers..talks..abouts...what..he...ams..looks likes?”

  Miyuki thought for a bit, You could tell by the look on her oval face that her gears were working in her brain.

  “No..she doesn’t remember what he looked like.  All I know is that she..does  _ not _ like...him.” She responded.

  She spun her head towards the Swedish man quickly, snapping at him. “Why are you so interested? I don’t even know who you are!”

  Skwisgaar raised his eyebrows as he jumped a little from the sudden rise in volume--he was jittery due to his anxiety as well.

  At this moment, the group came to a stop as the lady opened a heavy door. 

  “Come in, we’ll get you started.” she said with a friendly smile as she held the door open for the two celebrities.

  Miyuki glanced at Skwisgaar with irritated eyes before she headed in first, the blonde man following her before the employee closed the door behind them--the once noisy hallway falling silent.

 

************************************************************************

Nathan stuffed half of a poptart in his mouth, chewing and munching on the processed pastry.  

“Ands thens, theres was a louds  _ BOOMS!  _ Likes the ones ins ans emsksplosions!” Toki chimed, his arms waving in the air.

Nathan cracked a sort of side smile and chuckled breathily. “That’s all?” he asked.

Toki smiled from ear to ear. “It was the bests dreams I haves evers hads!” he told the large man with excitement gleaming in his eyes.

Nathan chuckled a little more before he finished his pastry.  He smiled at Toki, asking for more information on the Norwegian man’s thoughts before he succumbed to his own--furrowing his brow and looking through the rhythm guitarist as if he was focusing on something behind him.  Toki ceased his laughter and waved a hand in front of the frontman’s face. “Nathana, ams yous okays?” he asked with concern.

Nathan blinked a few times before slowly nodding his heavy, head--sighing.

“I..guess.” replied the singer. “I just feel a bit guilty..for potentially..uhh..making Skwisgaar go through some sort of crisis.”

Toki gasped. “Why does yous feels gulties?” he asked.

“Well...I sort of brought up the whole rapper thing.” he told the man, eyeing the doritos bag next to him. “Hey, Toki could you pass me that bag of doritos right quick?”

“Oh yeah, sures.” said Toki, sliding the orange and black bag across the silver table with a push.

Nathan caught them in his large palm. “Thanks.” he said before reaching in and grabbing a handful.

“Well, like I said,” he continued, chewing and crunching “If I hadn’t brought it up, Skwisgaar wouldn’t be so..confused all the time.”

Toki reached for the bag as he moved it closer to the middle of the kitchen table. “Yeahs. I guess you ams rights…” he said. 

“I feel really bad about it---”

“Hey guys, what’s goin’ on?” interrupted Pickles as he walked into the kitchen, taking a seat next to Nathan.

The two band members only looked at him.

“You guys uh..gonna share those doritos?” the drummer added, pointing a freckled finger to the open bag.

Nathan nodded as he continued his lament. “I was just talking about...how...uhhh…”

“Nathan ams feels guilties because he broughts ups thats rapper’s skimularities tos Skwisgaar.” Toki finished, grabbing more of the chips.

“Oh..dat.” Replied Pickles, taking some doritos out of Nathan’s hand.

“Aw, but don’ts worries abouts Skwisgaar, Nathans! It wills pass!” Toki reassured with a toss-like hand gesture.

Nathan grumbled. “I’m not worried about Skwisgaar! I just want him to be okay!” He said.

“Dat sounds like you’re worrying about him, Naten..” Pickles retorted with a snickering laugh.

“No I’m not!”

Pickles nodded. “Yeah you are.”

Nathan huffed, holding his hands out in front of him. “Well, I just want Skwisgaar to stop...feeling confused all the time!” he yelled.

Toki and Pickles looked at each other, scared to tell the frontman that no matter what he says, the final line was that he was worried about the guitarist.

“And--and he just goes around the house like, ‘Oough, I can’ts rememskers anysthings~! Oh woes ams mees~! If only Nathans nevers broughts ups thats  _ stupids  _ rappers!’ ” Nathan imitated, voice cracking and face turning red from yelling.

“I’s nevers heards hims says thats last parts..” Toki added.

Nathan looked at Toki, brow shadowing his green eyes. “Well, he thinks it!” he responded.

Pickles patted him on the back as the table grew silent. 

“Okay, Nathan, just calm down..okay?” told the large man. “It’s all gonna be resolved today, remember? Skwisgaar is getting a DNA test!”

Toki took the whole bag of doritos, closing them and clipping them shut.  

“Yeahs! Then yous won’ts haves to worries!” replied Toki as he put the bag back in the cabinet that it came from.

Pickles drummed his fingers on the table, looking around the monochrome kitchen.

“When’s Skwisgaar supposed to be back, anyway? It’s been like three hours.” he inquired.

Nathan was going to answer that when Skwisgaar himself walked into the kitchen and sat down next to Toki.  He looked as if he had gotten better--his mood was seemingly back to normal, the confusion on his face had subsided, plus his voice sounded peppy--a lot peppier than usual.

“Heys, whats dids I’s miss?” He asked the group of bandmates.

Nathan exchanged glances with Pickles and Toki before replying, “Oh, nothing! We were uhhh...just talking about which..movie stars we’d date!”

Toki looked at Nathan shaking his head. “I thoughts we weres talkings abouts hows yous--”

“You said Cameron Diaz, right Toki?” Pickles interjected.

Toki looked at Pickles, then quickly smiled. “Yeah! She ams pretties!”

“Uhh...Nia Long is better looking.” Nathan told the group.

Skwisgaar listened along as the group talked about celebrities, not wanting to join in since Pickles had told him at an earlier time that he wasn’t allowed to talk about any celebrities he would bed--mainly due to his choice actresses being well into their sixties or fifties--inclusive to Skwisgaar’s tastes only; nobody could relate.  Soon, Murderface joined the conversation, and the kitchen was bustling with activity and noise, Skwisgaar’s negative thoughts being silenced forever at last.


	5. Instant Crush/Shock Horror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skwisgaar's memory Is back in full swing after a Google search triggers snippets from his mind. The news wants answers to the settle the rumors, and Skwisgaar's got them. Maybe he'll let them loose for the world to hear.

The evening only grew darker and darker as the driver turned into a suburban area.  Junko looked out the window--her faint reflection being caught in the glass. Trees, house, car, tree, house, car, was a pattern she happened to notice amongst the scenery of this quiet, sleepy town.  Soon, her mind drifted away from the dark, almost invisible pine trees and boring, look-alike houses and onto the blond boy who had invited her on the journey. She turned around to face him, brown eyes looking him over dreamily.  The faint metal song coming from the stereo almost made him seem like some sort of statue, a god, perhaps. She sighed before turning back to the window--a little frightened about where she was going. In fact, she quickly realized that the whole situation could turn out to be dangerous.  

She began to panic. “You got into a car, with a person you just met…’ she thought. “You’re going to a place you’ve never been..” 

she furrowed her brow before looking back at Skwisgaar. 

“You could  _ die. _ ”

 Yet, regardless of her anxious thoughts and uncomfortable feelings--she seemed to trust Skwisgaar.  He acted and looked friendly and he hadn’t done anything bad or questionable in the amount of time that they’ve known each other.  She inhaled and relaxed herself as she glanced back at the boy who appeared to be practicing his guitar as they continued to drive along the dark road. 

She continued to look at him with intrigue--the curious look gradually turning into a longing, infatuated stare.  All of a sudden, this tall, lanky stranger turned into a fantasy partner of sorts. She thought about what kind of boyfriend he could be, what kind of  _ father _ he could be.  “Is he a good kisser?” “Is he sensitive?” were questions that had popped up in her little, teen-star head. 

She looked at his icy, eyes and how concentrated they were on his strings, how his almost white hair split as it softly sat on his shoulders, the other half of it pouring down his back.  She had never seen someone with such angular features, or such defined cheekbones. She sighed and watched in awe as nimble fingers toyed with the guitar, gently plucking and fretting. She felt her face turning a little pink as she imagined how those fingers felt holding her own. To her own surprise, he didn’t even notice her staring, all his focus on the instrument.  

She kept up her airy gaze when subconsciously, her hand slid across the fuzzy, gray seats, moving  closer to his person. She soon retracted it slowly as she sat still, her face flushing into a deeper shade of red--her stare broken.  ‘You crush too easily...’ she whispered to herself as she put her hands on her lap, sighing. Then, immediately, she turned back to face him, staring once more, zoning out into more fluffy, lovey-dovey, images of the two together.

“Why are you staring at me?” the young man asked, his eyes still focused on the instrument.

Junko jolted as if someone hit her on the head with something. She blinked a few times.

“Wh-what?” she asked.  

Skwisgaar moved his gaze to hers, his fingers still practicing. 

“Why are you staring at me? Are you okay?” he asked.

Junko mouthed ‘oh’ and nodded. “I’m fine..I just zoned out..” she answered.

Skwisgaar gave a knowing nod.

“How long was I staring?” she asked again, moving a little closer to him.

Skwisgaar stopped playing and chuckled a little. “Long enough for me to notice.” he responded.

“Ah..” she said, raising her hidden eyebrows.

Seconds passed as the drive grew quiet once more.  After growing uncomfortable with the silence, the pop star spoke up.

“Where is the party?” she asked, looking at her new crush.

“My friend’s house.” Skwisgaar replied. “We’re almost there..” 

Junko nodded before eating another piece of candy. 

“Want some?” she asked the swedish boy, holding out a piece. “It’s lychee flavored.” 

Skwisgaar smiled at her and delicately plucked it from her small fingers, unwrapping it and popping it into his mouth. Junko smiled a little as his fingers brushed against hers. “Thank you!” he chimed, chewing the confectionary treat. 

“You’re welcome!” she chimed back, heart swelling from the brief, hand-touching.

 

Before they both knew it, the bulky van came to a stop.  The young girl perked up and looked at the windshield, squinting to see that they were parked on the street--however, the lack of lights made hard to discern that fact.  

The group hopped out of their vehicle one by one and made their way down the street.  Junko stayed close to the tall teenager at all times, since she didn’t want to get lost in the dark--and for her own, other, selfish, heart aching, reasons.  

As they began to walk, Junko was lagging behind the lanky boy.  She quickened her walking pace--the sound of her footsteps frantic on the concrete as if she were running.  

“Slow down!” she yelled out. “You’re walking too fast!” 

Skwisgaar chuckled and stopped walking completely, waiting for the girl to catch up to him.  When she did, he held his hand out to his side.

Junko looked at his hand, then back at him, confused.

“I’m going to have to treat you like a child.” he said with a slight laugh. “Hold my hand, so you won’t get left behind.”

Junko looked up at the teen again, blushing.  She reached for his palm and did as she was instructed. She giggled when she took his large hand, walking alongside him--swinging his arm to and fro--one of her desires moderately quenched. 

She looked up at him again with the same dazed stare.

“Do you listen to pop music?” She asked, wanting to know more about him.

Skwisgaar scrunched up his face and shook his head.

“No.” he said. “I don’t really like pop music.”

“Oh.” Junko simply responded. “Why not?”

“It’s too..too much of the same thing..”

Junko nodded in understanding. “That’s how I feel about it sometimes.” she agreed. 

She felt the blonde’s eyes bore into her head from above.

“Then why are you a pop singer?” he inquired.

Junko shrugged and chuckled. “I like singing about cute boys and teen issues.” she said, kicking a pebble down the road.  She smiled after she said that, hoping that maybe she could make a memory out of this little trip they were taking together.

“I like playing guitar.” replied Skwisgaar dryly.

Junko smiled. “I wish I could play guitar.” she responded.

The swede smirked. “Maybe I can teach you.” he said.

“I could teach you how to sing.” she added.

Skwisgaar stopped walking and looked at her--prompting the young girl to look up at him.

“How do you know I can’t sing now?” he asked playfully

Junko smiled and laughed. “Well, I’ve never heard you sing.”

Skwisgaar snickered. “Watch me!” he yelped before belting out a crooked note--forcing a laugh out of the singer.

“We’ll need to work on that.” she responded with a laugh, smothering the thought of Skwisgaar’s snicker being rather cute.

“No, I think I sound okay.” he responded before doing it again, but in a higher pitch.

Junko snorted and smacked his arm with her free hand.

“Stop! You sound like the rest of my group!” she yelled out with jive.

Skwisgaar burst into a fit of gasping and laughing. “That’s harsh!” he responded, holding his chest dramatically.

“It’s true! They just think if they’re pretty they can sing!” She announced, her face turning red once more. “I-I mean...they can sing..” she backpedaled, feeling stupid for throwing her friends under the bus like that.  

Skwisgaar chuckled before saying to her, “I bet you’re the best singer~.”

This comment made the pop star’s heart thump and thrash. He really thought that? He had never even heard her belt a note! She looked up at him with awe and surprise. She chuckled goofily, holding his hand a little tighter--but not so tight that he would notice. 

“Ah! Uhm.. th-thank you..” she said before coming to halt at someone’s door.  

One of the band members rang the doorbell, waiting for a short amount of time when a young woman in a purple mini-skirt and tank top opened the door, laughing and delirious--she was drunk.  She greeted the band, even teasing Skwisgaar about Junko, asking, “Is that your little girlfriend now?” 

Junko didn’t even hear what Skwisgaar’s answer was, all she could think of was how many people there were at the get together she was offered to go to.

She walked inside with the rest of them, excited  to bits at the amount of noise and people she had never met.   The lights inside the large home were neon and strobe, lighting up the party-goers as they danced and frotted about. Hair whipped about and arms flailed in the dark, laughter and music filled the air.  Junko followed her large guide as she looked around her, pop music playing and everyone having the time of their lives. 

“ Step! Hey, girl,” The speakers boomed. “Can't you see I've got to have you all just for me?”

Junko looked around some more, noticing some people singing along with their friends. 

“Step! Hey, girl, yes, it's true, no one else will ever do! ” They mouthed.  

She turned her attention back to the band as they slowly made their way through the massive crowd--waving and shaking hands with people that they knew, however Junko kept her eyes on the young man who brought her here. 

No matter how many crowds they had to pass, or how many ‘excuse me’s they had to  utter--Junko stayed close to Skwisgaar, using the crowded home as an excuse to hold on to the guitarist’s arm.  She sighed as the party carried on and drinks were being guzzled down, she looked at the tall teenager who had brought her here with a smile, wondering about him and his life. Does he have a girlfriend? What were his parents like? Does he want a girlfriend? She poked his arm, since her voice was too tiny to hear over the songs.  

Skwisgaar looked at her, confused. “Huh? What’s wrong?” he asked.

Junko beckoned him down to her level, leaning into his ear to tell him, “Is there somewhere quieter we can be? I want to talk to you!”

Skwisgaar leaned back up to his original height of six foot three and looked around, eventually asking one of his bandmates a question.

Junko waited patiently as she anticipated being alone with the tall teenager.  She couldn’t hear what the blonde boy was asking his friend, but she couldn’t care less--lost in her fantasies of him and her together….despite only knowing each other for two hours.  Eventually Skwisgaar looked at her once more, eyes quickly darting off to his left- then back to hers. 

“Come on.” he said into her ear. “There’s a room upstairs.”

Junko smiled and nodded, following Skwisgaar through the drunken, ecstatic crowd of teens and young adults alike.  Zig-zagging and side stepping, she realized that she had lost him. She began to panic, looking around the dimly-lit party--the strobelights and loud, bass-boosted, music making her delirious.  Quickly walking forward, she stood on her toes and tapped a much taller woman on the shoulder.

“Excuse me!” she yelled. “Have you seen my...friend?” 

The woman turned around with a smile--she must’ve been laughing at something before Junko interrupted.  She couldn’t have been any older than nineteen, but no younger than seventeen. She had long brown hair with lime-green highlights--her staggering height forcing her ivory shorts to look extra small.

“Hmm? Who’s your ‘friend?’” she asked, bending down to the Japanese girl’s height.  Her neon, pink, braces almost glowing in the dark.

Junko looked her over with wonder, since she had never come across a woman of her height before.  “Uhm..he’s really tall, has long blonde hair...pretty blue eyes--”

“Sounds like she’s talking about Skwisgaar..” another girl stated.

Junko smiled. “Yes! Him! That’s his name!” she said with glee. 

The young woman with the pink braces smiled and chuckled. “Skwisgaar Skwigelf,  _ every  _ girl’s friend~...” she sung out.

“Shut up, Silvia!” her friend said with a giggle.

Junko wasn’t sure about what this Silvia girl’s remark meant, nor did she care. 

“Have you seen him? I want..to talk..to him about something.” she continued, hoping for an answer.

Silvia pointed to the stairs that were further down, close to the front door--her hand gripping a white, foam cup.

“I noticed him going that way, up the stairs.” she told her, as Junko turned her attention to the beige staircase.

Junko turned back to the helpful Silvia with a grin. “Thank you.” she said, quickly heading to the stairs. Her mind raced as she dashed to the blonde boy’s whereabouts.  Speed Walking past the staircase, she felt something tap her shoulder. Junko stopped to look up, only to see her hyperfixation dangling his lanky limbs over the edge of the rail.

“Hey, what happened?” he teased. “Duckling lost her way?”

Junko giggled and smiled a little, trying not to show the effects of the guitarist’s teasing.

“Whatever, let’s go to this stupid room..” she responded, walking up the stairs as if she knew where it was.  Skwisgaar walked ahead of her, knowing exactly which room was empty.

Junko walked along behind him, her longing and desires turning into anxious figmentations once more.  She looked around the dark corridor, room after room on one side of her--their doors closed, the air somewhat quiet; the noise downstairs muffled to a degree.  She looked around for a phone, in the event that she had to call her manager and group members, eventually finding one on the wall near what appeared to be a bathroom.  She kept a steady walking pace as she treaded down the silent hall--the music growing distant and slurred.

“Well, here we are.” Skwisgaar announced, gesturing to the room itself. It was pretty with its white curtains and light blue walls. The bed was a high-rise one with dark blankets covering it, the pillows a light gray.  There was a dresser with various pictures on the top of it: a child, a baby, and a family with a dog--a typical, picturesque, household. The windows were black from the night sky, the only light source coming from a light below, illuminating the backyard.   Junko sat on the bed, Skwisgaar following her movements--sitting directly across from her, his long legs dangling off the edge.

Junko looked at him, trying to tell him what she was going to tell him, even if it was probably going to make him rather uncomfortable.  She rehearsed it in her head a couple of times, ‘I think you’re cute..’ ‘I want to be your girlfriend...’ ‘we can be friends if you don’t want to be an item…’ were all phrases that she had set up for the conversation that she was going to start.

“Skwisgaar...I just want to say…” she began. “Thank you..for introducing me to melodic..metal..” 

Skwisgaar smiled and chuckled. “Aw, you’re welcome~!” he sang, chuckling--forcing the japanese idol to blush.  

“Bu-but that’s not all!” she shouted, perhaps a little too loud.  She hushed herself. “Um..I think you’re really handsome..” she told him, not breaking eye contact. “I’ve been thinking about that ever since I saw you on stage.”

She saw Skwisgaar wear a prideful smirk, as if he expected her to find him attractive.  

“It’s fine if you..don’t want to be a couple. I get it...we’ve only known each other for two hours.” she finished up, putting her hair behind her ear.

Skwisgaar scooted closer, cupping her soft, face in his hands. 

“You’re cute, Junko..” he said softly, his plush, lips curling  up into a crescent shape.

Junko gazed into his eyes, her recent dreams possibly coming true.

He chuckled again, “Look at you~, you’re like a little porcelain doll~...” he cooed, causing Junko’s face to go red.

“I..I really like you, Skwisgaar..” she muttered.

Skwisgaar only reply was a hum. “Mmm...me too..” he added, sealing the space between their faces shut.  

Junko would’ve cried tears of happiness, her fluffy thoughts coming to fruition, everything she thought about now had a higher chance of happening. However, Skwisgaar kissed her to keep his reputation--her feelings weren’t returned in the slightest.

Skwisgaar Skwigelf,  _ every  _ girl’s ‘friend’.

 

***************************************************************************

Skwisgaar sat in Charles’ office, groggy and a little cranky from being woken up at nine in the morning. Yet, he wasn’t going to complain since the manager said that it was important information that he needed to let Skwisgaar know about.  Skwisgaar would rather be doing something else--but he was far too tired to even try to bicker with the man, so he let him speak.

“Whats ams this abouts, Charles?” he questioned, slowly practicing his guitar.

Charles cleared his throat as he stacked a few papers on his desk. 

“Well..” he began. “It’s ah..regarding the DNA test…” he said to the guitarist, looking him in the eye, his mouth in a tight line.  He sighed before continuing.

“I’m afraid to tell you that the test results are..positive.” 

Skwisgaar raised an eyebrow. “What ams dats means?” he asked.

“It means, Miyuki-Nova is...uhm..well..your  _ daughter _ , Skwisgaar.”

Skwisgaar immediately stopped his fretting, looking into the distance, through Charles, his brows furrowed.  Positive? The rumors were true? Skwisgaar tried to piece everything together, despite his world crumbling in front of his face.  Still, in spite of meeting the rapper the other day, he couldn’t remember anything at all. He convinced himself that his bandmate was just playing a cruel joke on him--then the Dethklok minute thought the same thing, yet he was still convinced he never, ever saw, or met Miyuki’s mother.  

“But, wh-whats abouts the contracts?” he asked with fear. “Huh?! I can’ts bes hers fathers, it says sos!” 

Charles sighed and removed his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose.  “Well, uh...about that Skwisgaar..” he began, putting his bifocals back on his face. 

Skwisgaar put his guitar down--for once, he was eager to hear what the businessman had to say.

“She was conceived...before I met you and the band, so..uh..the contract is  _ void  _ in this case.” 

Skwisgaar nodded slowly, still confused about how this could’ve been true. He went through a list of the women he had slept with in his head--well, the ones whose names he had recalled.   

“Thank yous..for tellings mes, Charles..” he said--too spaced out to even register where he was.

Charles nodded, got up out of his seat and walked to the door of his office, the creaking of said door taking Skwisgaar out of his confused, trance-like state.  Skwisgaar grabbed his instrument and headed out, still trying to figure out how this all happened.

“Oh, by the way, Skwisgaar--” the lawyer exclaimed. “You have a news conference later on today regarding the..ah... rumors about your relation to Ms. Toriyama.” 

Skwisgaar only looked at him, his eyes tired and face tight.  He glared at his manager, weary and worry-ridden. Not only was Skwisgaar tired from his lack of sleep, but because of everything surrounding this now true conspiracy.  Understanding the band member’s plight, Charles’ eyes took on a sympathetic feel as he realized how Skwisgaar was truly worried about his situation. His gaze dropped to the floor, then back to the blonde man’s.

“Just…” he said timidly. “Just be honest.” 

Skwisgaar muttered an exhausted “okays..” before the door closed in front of him.

He walked down the Mordhaus hall, his feet dragging, his fingers dangling instead of fingering his guitar.  The walls dripped with silence as he dragged himself to his room--his bandmates sleeping , their respective doors closed.  He looked around him, trying to find relief in some sort of distraction; his guitar wasn’t doing the trick this time. He sighed, reaching his room and throwing himself on his shaggy, thick quilts. He stared up at the ceiling, attempting to come to a conclusion to the whole thing.  ‘When?’ and ‘where?’ were frequently asked in his distressed mind, eventually reaching for the laptop beside him for responses to those moot questions.

The screen flashed white as the company’s logo popped up, greeting Skwisgaar with a  _ ‘ba-diinng!’ _ sound. Skwisgaar squinted and rapidly tapped his bony, digit on the reduce-brightness key, eventually opening his peepers once a comfortable brightness was set.  His fingers worked their quick magic as the room hastily filled up with the familiar noise of plastic keys tapping against metal. 

The name “Junko Toriyama” was quickly displayed in big, bold letters, her personal information in smaller lettering below it.  Skwisgaar hummed quizzically before clicking on her biography, eyes glazing over facts and birthdays. Still, nothing made sense--not even the picture of the thirty-seven year old pop artist beside the article.  

The screen scrolled downwards as the guitarist looked for something that would make sense.  He came to a stop on a section of the article titled ‘Yoake no on'nanoko’, the name triggering a souvenir from his distant past.  

_ “... _ _ I’m part of a pop group called,  _ _ Yoake no on'nanoko. _ _ ”  _ a small voice echoed in his brain.

Eyes widening in recollection, he frantically clicked on the blue, highlighted words that spelled out the group’s name,  studying the prose beneath it.

“ Yoake no on'nanoko (translation: Girls of the Dawn) was a pop idol group that had a great amount of popularity from the mid 1980’s through the late 1990’s in Japan... ” 

With a an arm bent on his boxer-clad thigh and a pasty hand covering his mouth, Skwisgaar investigated further, looking through discographies and awards, that voice replaying like a song on repeat in his mind. 

“ _ I’m part of a group…”  _

Skwisgaar kept scrolling.

_ “... _ _ Yoake no on'nanoko... _ _ ” _

He groaned in frustration, trying to stimulate more memories.

 

“Controversies and Hiatus” read the title of a subarticle.

Skwisgaar paused on it, the text almost screaming at him, making him uneasy.   He slowly pressed the down key, paying even more attention than before.

“On November, 21st, 1990, after cancelling multiple tour dates, it was confirmed that lead singer, Junko Toriyama was going through a pregnancy...she was sixteen at the time of the incident two months ago in September…”

Skwisgaar only scrolled further down the never-ending page.

“This lead to a nine-month hiatus and public scorn on the young pop star's end.  The starlet told the press that she hadn’t noticed any signs of her pregnancy up until November, stating that. “I only thought I was vomiting because I was ill, and fainting for the same reason...,”

Skwisgaar’s eyes lingered on the word ‘sixteen’, in this context, it appeared to sound rather familiar.  Skwisgaar stared at it, as if it would help in his search for answers.

_ “ _ _ He got her pregnant at sixteen and just left…”  _ added another voice floating in the guitarist’s psyche.

“... she was sixteen at the time of the incident…” he read over again, his mind proving successful in his search.  Well successful to some degree--he still didn’t know who this Junko Toriyama was…

He grew frustrated at the article and huffed, searching for photos of the group in their prime instead.  As the tiny arrow-shaped cursor drifted to the ‘images’ page, Skwisgaar grew increasingly impatient as the evidence began to build up.  Even when the results appeared in less than a second, he still seemed lost. Yet, there was one image, one image that forced the guitarist to open his eyes wider and cup his face, an image that forced every last memory of this lady into the light.  It was an old picture, probably from the early nineties, with four girls receiving a trophy at some sort of event. There was one that stuck out: a young girl with an oval face and black hair. She was the shortest member out of the girl group, her eyebrows hidden by bangs, her hair in a high ponytail.  It was her, Junko Toriyama, at sixteen years of age. 

The stunned man clicked on the image, reading the text underneath.

_ “ _ _ Yoake no on'nanoko receives an award for top song in a music contest.  Stockholm, Sweden, September 5th, 1990. _ _ ”   _

Skwisgaar only stared at the screen as every conversation with the teenage girl bobbed to the surface of his thoughts, littering his mind with rather fond memories of the teenager.  His eyesight began to turn foggy, his face heating up, water streaming down white cheeks as he was relentlessly bombarded with images of the two, then-teenagers. The concert, the mosh pit, the guitar solo, the car ride, the candy and the party--it all made sense now.

His tears spilled onto his arms, the onto the keyboard as he sobbed, his room sitting still--the only noise coming from Skwisgaar’s gasps and sniffles.

 

“Oh Gods…” he lamented. “I remembers everythings nows…”

 

            ***********************************************************************

Cameras snapped and reporters chattered away as Skwisgaar stood backstage with his bandmates, relaying the message Charles gave to him earlier that morning.

 

“Wait..so what you’re saying is…” Nathan started “that rapper is actually your  _ daughter _ ?” 

 

Skwisgaar nodded regretfully. “Yes...she ams..”

 

Murderface scowled. “Well, it doeschn’t matter!” he interjected. “Juscht lie to them! I do it all the time.”

 

Toki only rolled his eyes at the bassist’s remark. “It ams also whys you always gets into troubles.” he sassed, crossing his arms.

 

“I can’ts lies!” he yelled. “It ams alreadys bad enoughs!”

 

They all nodded in unison, giving their responses of “That’s true..” “He’s right…” and “It could be worse.”

 

Pickles placed a hand on Skwisgaar’s bony shoulder, gesturing to the podium on stage--countless microphones attached to it.  

“Look man, all y’gotta do is get out there an’ say a few things...ya know..just answer a few questions.”  he reassured, pushing the tall man out of the burgundy curtains and into the spotlight. Skwisgaar quickly accepted his fate, putting on a cool, unbothered facade as he stood at the podium-- hands gripping the sides.

 

The questions came pouring out.

 

“Mr. Skwigelf, how do you feel about the recent accusations about Miyuki being your daughter?”

 

“Mr. Skwigelf,  is it true that you are Miyuki-Nova Toriyama’s father?”

 

“Mr.  Skwigelf, do you have any animosity towards the people who started this conspiracy?”

 

“Mr. Skwigelf!

 

“Mr. Skwigelf!”

 

“Mr. Skwigelf!”

 

Skwisgaar took a deep breath and remembered what his manager had told him in the morning, “ _ Just be honest. _ ” 

 

“I..I uh,..I ams heres to puts these rumors tos rests!” he announced, forcing the reporters to stay silent.

 

“I..I ams sorries to says thats I tooks a DNA tests,...”

He looked back at his band, their faces suspicious, unknowing what he was going to utter.

“ands..It turns outs thats...I ams Miyuki’s fathers...”

The room was filled gasps and whispers as Skwisgaar stood there, fishing for more things to say.

“She ams my daughters ands...ands thats is thats.” he ended with a sigh.

Backstage, the band was mortified to hear Skwisgaar admit to what he so passionately denied only days earlier.  They hoped that he would lie, that he wouldn’t let the world know, but that never happened. Skwisgaar kept on spewing the truth, as well as his emotions--which didn’t happen often.

With that last remark, he headed backstage, the reporters still yelling--demanding that he say more.

“What the hell was that?!” Nathan barked angrily.

“Why’d you tell ‘em you were the dad?!” Pickles added. 

Skwisgaar only shrugged as he headed further backstage--almost hiding himself from the band.  He didn’t answer any of their questions as if they were mere annoyances, as if they were the paparazzi.  The guitarist was tired beyond reason, physically and emotionally drained. His bandmates’ angry cries for reason forced the Swede to turn around--his eyes droopy, eyes leaking tears.

“Please….” he said, weary and anguished.  “Leaves mes alones. I don’ts wants to talks anymores..”

 


	6. Dunce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the press conference, nobody is happy with what Skwisgaar told the press, but he was only following Charles' suggestions. Apparently, Charles doesn't think so

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is a short chapter, but it was supposed to be the second part of the fifth chapter, then I just made it the sixth chapter.

   “I’m not going to state it outright,” Charles began. “However, Skwisgaar…”

   Skwisgaar looked up at the manager while he toyed with his guitar at the large, mahogany, table. 

    “though it isn’t my place to say what..uh.. _ I  _  thought was a poor decision to make--”

   “Just say it, Charles!” Pickles interjected. “It was a stupid thing to say!”

    Toki leaned onto the table, his eyebrows knitted and a mouth full of frustration. “Yeahs!” he exclaimed. “Yous says thats stupids shits tos the T.V.s newspeoples!”

    Charles shrugged. “Well then.” he said, forfeiting his original statement. “Skwisgaar, I don’t agree with what you told the press. In fact, I think you should’ve denied having any relation to her.”

     Skwisgaar sat there with his jaw on the table and hands outwards--palms facing the ceiling. His face sketched a look of utter confusion and frustration, his coherent words got stuck in his throat--the only noise coming out being a weird “ _ guh-”  _ or “ _ whuh--”  _ every now and then.

    Nathan growled. “Yeah!” he shouted, “Why didn’t you lie?”

    Skwisgaar quickly turned to face Nathan at the other end, his hair leaking onto the table as he leaned forward for a better look.

    “I justs dids whats Charles tolds me tos dos!” he responded, his voice scratchy from yelling.

    Everyone’s heads turned to their manager’s position at  the head of the table.

    “Ah...uhm..” Charles stammered. “Wh..uh-what exactly did I say?”

    Skwisgaar folded his arms against his chest. “Yous tolds mes tos ‘justs bes honest’!” he said with regality, throwing away any last little bit falseness he had left.

    Charles blinked. “I didn’t say that.” he responded in a dry tone.

   Skwisgaar’s heart dropped. The one person he thought had his back just threw him under the bus. Great.  Now the Swede looked either stupid, crazy, or desperate to make somebody a scapegoat--maybe all three.

   “Oh yeah, blame Charlesch!” the bassist added.

   Skwisgaar thrust his arms at his cruel manager. “He dids! He dids!” he exclaimed. “He tooks mes to his office and tolds mes to bes honest!”

  “No he didn’t!” Nathan said again. “You’re lying!”

    Skwisgaar’s eyes looked at Charles’ one last time, almost as if to say, ‘ _ please. Please keep your word, you stupid robot!’.  _ Charles simply looked back, unnaffected by everything going on around him. He was really going to lie in front of the entire band.  Why? Just so he could keep face? 

    Skwisgaar’s expression went from frustrated to drained rather quickly before he pushed his chair out and excused himself from the table without saying a word.

   They all watched him leave, some wearing masks of frustration, some of pity.  Charles watched the swede leave, exhaled, then sighed as he announced, “Well, ah..since this appears to be cleared up..I suppose you all can go back to what you all were...doing.”

   Skwisgaar winded down the hall, fuming, frustrated, betrayed.  Perhaps it was a petty thing to get mad over, but the guitarist was not trying to listen to whatever his shoulder angel was trying to tell him. How could Charles lie like that? He made him look like a jackass in front of his own bandmates--not they didn’t already think Skwisgaar was a jackass after the statement he made to the press regarding Miyuki.  Everything was already bad enough. Skwisgaar just shouldn’t have listened to the manager, he should’ve lied, like Nathan and the others told him to. Now everyone knows. Words like ‘ _ I’m related to this rapper.’  _ or ‘ _ the DNA test proved positive.’  _ were words that could not be taken back.  They were concrete, grounded in reality. Those words had evidence to back them up. 

    He finally got far enough from the main room to lean against a wall within the depths of Mordhaus. Skwisgaar gently threw his head against the wall and  scrunched up his face. He was upset that he did all that denying just for the denial to slap him across the face. His teeth scraped his bottom lip for a second before returning to the inside of his mouth as he thought about everything that happened these past four days--how it didn’t make sense for it to happen so fast.  His thoughts dove into a pool of  _  if onlys  _ and  _ what ifs.  _ It was back to square one with the Swede’s mind, except now he remembered everything; the party, the girl, the concert, how Miyuki came into existence.  He remembered. He finally remembered. He wish he hadn’t.

   “Oh. Hello, Skwisgaar.” said a nasally voice in front of him. Charles.

  Skwisgaar left his bargaining mind as he looked the shorter man in his hazel eyes, the guitarist looking into them with an icy soul.

  Charles immediately picked up on this feeling of anger.  A feeling of dread washed over the manager--he never felt this before, usually he could care less if the boys were angry.  

  “I ah...take it that you’re angry at me.”

    Skwigaar didn’t respond for a bit.  He heard what the lawyer said, he just thought it was a stupid thing to say.  

   “Why dids yous justs throws mes unders the buses likes thats?” he asked, low and gravelly.

   Charles searched for a reply in his busy mind.  

  “Well..” he began, “I was just responding to what you said.”

   Skwisgaar stood up quickly, looming over the manager.

  “Yous didn’ts says thats yous tolds mes to bes honest.” he simply said.

   Charles nodded. “That, I didn’t.”

  Skwisgaar wrinkled his nose before saying, “This ams yours faults.”

  Charles raised his eyebrows in surprise. “ _ My _ fault?” he asked, dryly.

  Skwisgaar nodded vigorously as his eyes widened. “Ja! It ams alls yours faults that--”

  “You didn’t have to do what I said.” Charles interrupted in a stern tone.

  Charles was right--Skwisgaar could’ve just ignored Charles’ suggestion.  However, Skwisgaar was desperate, desperate people will do anything if they think it will help get rid of their problem.

  “When I said, ‘just be honest’,” Charles started as he looked at Skwisgaar--he sounded irritated. “I didn’t want you to talk about the DNA test.” 

  Skwisgaar could only look on in despair.  He thought at least Charles would’ve helped him. 

   Charles looked back at him, then swiftly turned around and headed off into the opposite direction.  

   “Have a good day, Skwisgaar.” he called back, his voice only slightly louder than the clacking of his oxford’s heels on the wooden floor. 

   ‘ _ Have a good day…’  _ those words hit the guitarist in the heart-strings.  Have a good day, don’t have a miserable one. That seemed impossible.  He didn’t want to take the manager’s advice after the move he pulled on the lanky Swede--but maybe he could at least  _ try  _ to have a good day.  He inhaled deeply, smelling the patchouli and sandalwood that the klokateers used to keep the area smelling pleasant and not like death and rotting--that and bleach and actual soap. Exhaling, he kept walking to his room, his body feeling heavier than before.  He tried to put everything behind him. He was attempting to have a ‘good day’. 

  Skwisgaar twisted the knob before he pushed the door open, the resounding creaking of the hinges echoing throughout the area.  He stepped in and immediately sat on his fluffy bed, sighing and feeling his sheets. He then lifted his guitar and began to do what he normally did when things were troubling him.  He focused on the strings and the sound the instrument made as he tried as hard as he could to put his anger aside--plucking and fretting his feelings away. He sunk into the feeling of playing his beloved guitar, almost forgetting all of the things that happened today.  Almost. He smiled a little as he thought of funnier, happier things--things that weren’t related to that damned rapper girl or the DNA test. As if to shatter this brief moment of mental clarity, he heard Nathan’s bellowing, gravelly, deep voice calling out his name from the hallway.

  “Skwisgaar!” He cried.

   “Skwisgaar, where are you?”

  Skwisgaar’s head snapped up as he was released from his pleasant thoughts. He looked around for the source of the voice.  He knew it was Nathan, but the only thing that accompanied the voice were frantic footsteps. Was he  _ running _ ?

  “Ins mys rooms!” Skwisgaar bellowed back.

   The footsteps got closer and closer, eventually Nathan’s large frame slid in front of Skwisgaar’s doorway.  He was doubled over with a hand on his knee, the laptop open and sitting in his free hand’s strong grip. He sort of stretched it out, as if he wanted the blonde man to grab it for himself and look at the contents it held.  However, Skwisgaar didn’t do anything, he simply sat, confused by his bandmate’s abrupt appearance.

   “Skwisgaar..” The vocalist panted, “You--You gotta..gotta read this.”


End file.
